The Light and the Glass
by America's Roast Beef Yes Sir
Summary: Who is this boy on our doorstep? -Kataang.-
1. The World We Live In

_(disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I wish I did, but I don't.)_

_A/N: The setting is set in modern times (today)._

The Light & the Glass - A story about life, adventure, and love.

**I  
The World We Live In**

The government kills children.

Every third-born child, orphan, and stray is disposed of in this sickening world we call home. The government feels that two children for each household is plenty; and that the planet's resources won't be depleted any time soon if that rule is respected. There is a fine line between hallucination and reality, and this world was right in the middle of it. This line is crossed every day by the government, and into hallucination they go. Hallucinations become reality.

For Hakoda, hallucination was no different from reality. The nightmarish fears that accompany him every day and his family almost always come true as the minutes tick by. A child is killed every minute; a third-born is killed every 58 seconds. This was the world that he lived in and that he knew.

Hakoda was a man of construction. He worked in the downtown area, setting up frames and foundations alongside his fellow construction workers. The cars and businessmen whizz past the construction site. And each day, the same group of people that he sees seems to get smaller and smaller. Pretty soon, the entire beat of people will be gone. And construction will be pointless. The pneumatic drills, jackhammers, whirring wrenches, injuries, rope, wires, fences, hammers, and anvils will mean nothing when society dies out due to this fucked up government.

This construction worker had two children: a 15 year-old son named Sokka and a 14 year-old daughter named Katara. But, as fate is at work, he was a widower. Each day, he goes to work, contributes to an unthankful society, brings home the bacon, and spends as much time as he can with the remainder of his family. A family that was nearly consumed and spit out by society.

The government kills children.

_Who could do such a thing?_

From democracy to dictatorship, climate shift and conservation has turned this world into a skin-tight knee-deep lock down facility; the dictator: Lord Ozai. People know little about Ozai; only that he is the "King of the World." Oh, and that the brilliance and 'sophistication' of today's world comes from: the absolute generous mind of Lord Ozai. This is where the ideas of killing children and babies, genocide, and anarchy came from...

Ozai grew up just like any other dictator would. He had a happy childhood, but didn't succeed in anything in life. If you can't succeed, you teach others to do so. And that was what he did... but, in his own way. Ozai created a socialist group called the Cult of Flames whose ideal was to make the world a better place to live in by reducing the population of the world to prevent the overuse of the planet's supplies and create a balance in supply and demand. Their rituals involved imprinting their bodies in blue arrows that ran along their limbs and backs before finally stopping at their heads.

Each day, the Cult of Flames would go out on a killing spree; firstly, they targeted personal enemies. They made their killings quick and clean by means of poison. A few months into the cult organization, the group ultimately failed, presumably due to the discovery of their operations. Ozai went on, staying strong, and secretly climbed the ranks of government, finally winning the prime role of head governor and electing remnants of the Cult of Flames to his authority, turning the government into a dictatorship. The legal system faded away on its own, under Ozai's command.

The last thing Hakoda wanted to think out was the legal system. In fact, there can be no legal system in this hellish piece. This pre-apocalyptic, indifferent, obscure, macabre, insignificant, insecure, demolished, destroyed, damned, battered, buried, crushed, fucked, and figured out life that is in the hands of the one that cares the least about unity and society.

As far back as Sokka could remember, life wasn't always like this. School would be fun, learning would be fun. But now, the government has changed its ways and is beginning to teach different subjects at school. Theatre became ethics. Pottery became business and law.

'Genocide', 'corrupt', 'renegade'; these three terms were the only three terms that Sokka could think of that could best describe life under dictatorship. When he was six, he believed that dictatorship was when your parents told you to clean your room, quit playing video games, take out the trash, or take a bath. Now, he knows the true meaning of that term. And it only took him a matter of days to figure it out.

Sokka believed that his mom was taken from him.

Katara, on the other hand, is trying to live life to the fullest, even under these conditions. She is doing well at school and encourages her brother to keep his chin up and fight through life's darkest paths. For some reason, Katara got the idea that her brother was suicidal; but, unbeknowngst to her, he wasn't. In fact, the last thing Sokka would ever be is suicidal. He would give anything, do anything, to protect his family.

The government kills children.

This is the world they live in.

* * *

After a long day at work, and a few accompanied bruises on his shins from the physical activity endured, Hakoda grabbed a can of cola from the fridge in the kitchen and hopped towards the living room, taking a seat on the couch in front of the television. He switched it on, flipping through various channels before finally arriving at the news station. Real news or not, it was worth watching.

Katara, in her bedroom, wrote in her journal as she studied for a law test that was due for next week. Her walls were painted a dark blue and a single low-watt lamp lit the room, leaving the unlighted corners dark and cold. She chewed on the end of her pencil. Her legs were propped up on the wall behind the bed she rested on. She was thinking of things that were very much not homework. The faint volume of the radio that sat on the top of her desk was enough to fill the entire space of her room, much like the lamp. They seldom play any music, even classical. Only news, top stories, the things going on in the world.

Sokka, in his bedroom, which was right across the hallway from Katara's, sat in his desk, having the same lighting as Katara's place, but up to a more elevated point so he could read. He didn't care much for homework. The same exercises were displayed on every single worksheet, research assignment, and book page that was spread across the space of his desk. he was absorbed neither in his schoolwork or his reading, much like his sister. The sagging sports posters that hung on the darkly shaded walls of his room covered up a color that he hated the most: red.

These news stories that Hakoda heard on the television were always about violence. "An officer at Memorial Park was killed today," "Domestic disturbance proves to be the worst as a family's father shoots his son and his wife before finally committing suicide," "A deranged robber stabs a local clerk working at a late night shift at a small grocery store," "An 11 year-old girl drowns at Crow Lake after thin ice collapses," "Sad news breaks out from the hospital as a war veteran who had been in a coma for nearly a year forces the doctors to pull the plug," "A bloody shootout at central downtown-"

A weak knock was heard at the door.

Hakoda cut his sip of cola short and stood up violently, crashing into the couches as he made his way towards his children, who were already standing at the doorways of their bedrooms. At the door, it could be anybody, besides door-to-door businessmen. It was a very dark night, and rough rain plummeted into the grass and sidewalks outside, making the occasional mild floods and puddles of mud.

"Children," he said. "Get ready. This may be them."

The tax collectors carried guns.

Many of the 'collectees' revolted; paychecks were obviously cut low to minimum wage. The envelope Hakoda had in his hands was rippled on the edges and wrinkled on its sides, after much grip and frustration he had put out on it. These tax collectors can easily abuse their power.

Katara and Sokka stood in front of the facades of the hallway that ran parallel to the door, staying near the living room. Hakoda took a deep breath. _Relax_, he told himself. The father walked towards the front door, unlocked the hinges, and turned the knob, finally opening the door.

The things that night can bring are amazing.

There, on his doorsteps, stood a boy, injured and wet. The rain drizzled on his tattered clothes, dripping down on the "Welcome" doormat that the father had intended to toss out months ago. The boy leaned against a support pillar that held up the roof above the porch. Hakoda could notice the boy's bloodstained hands. He was speechless. The children behind the father were speechless.

"Please," the boy managed to say. "I need some..." Hakoda quickly helped the boy in, closing the door behind him from preventing the drizzles from getting inside.

"Sokka! Get some towels!" Hakoda commanded. Ripping his glance away from the scene, the son ran to the bathroom and searched for the fresh whites, leaving the sister standing there, eyes wide open, hand over mouth. She studied the boy. He looked young, possibly Katara's age, but with the wetness and tattered clothes, it was hard to tell. She did notice, however, that a blue arrow was tattooed to his forehead. It was faded away, as well as the other arrows which were on his hands and arms.

Leaving the boy to lean against the couch, drenching it in rain, Hakoda ran to the dining room and received a chair, then rushed back to the living room, bumping and tackling into walls and corridors. After placing the chair in the room, he rushed back to the kitchen, rummaged through the medicine cabinet, and pulled out the first aid kit, retrieving a white bandage from inside and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, along with a few cotton balls. He ran back to the living room.

Kneeling down near the boy, who was now weakly slouching on the chair, the father lifted up the boy's hands from his torso. His palms were imprinted with his own blood. Hakoda poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball.

"It's just a flesh wound," the father announced, to which the boy didn't reply in any way. He applied the medicine to the boy's wound, making him flinch and wince in pain. After covering the wound in medicine, Hakoda patched the bandage on the boy, wrapping it around his ribs.

By the time the son returned with the towels, Hakoda had managed to sit the boy down on a chair and place a cloth on the wounded bleeding torso. Sokka tossed his father the towels all at the same time, with numerous dropping to the now wet floor. Hakoda wrapped the boy in a fresh white, as he continued sway and swagger. With a hand on each shoulder, Hakoda crouched down and looked at the boy, examining his face for any head injuries.

"What happened to you, child?" he finally asked as the event's tension lowered a bit.

Dizzy circles of lights and colors spun around the boy's head as he could barely keep his eyes open. The only sound he could hear was the powerful ticking of a clock, which overpowered the sounds boasting out of the TV set.

And before the boy could answer, he fainted, falling into the arms of the father.


	2. Brother Sokka and Sister Katara

_(I do NOT own Avatar!)_

**II  
Brother Sokka and Sister Katara**

Slowly, very slowly, the boy awoke, attempting to open his heavy eye lids. A bright light seaped in through his vision, nearly blinding him. His pupils quickly adjusted to the brightness of the room he was in. The boy looked around; he was laying on a bed. His tattered clothes were removed and his torso was bandaged. His body was completely dry. The boy then observed his arms; the arrows that were there are fading away. He wiped an exhausting heat away from his eyes and groaned.

He had suddenly remembered what happened before he passed out. How could he do such a thing? To just dance into somebody's home without giving a name or any information? More importantly, what is this situation he's in? His head was still a blur and his temples felt like they were being drilled through by a power tool. The blanket that was on him barely covered his bare chest. The pants he wore were his own, but they were completely dried and wringed out.

He looked around the room, still lying down on the firm mattress. The images that his eyes projected were a little shaky, but he could make it out. A nightstand was beside him and a glass of water was set on the top. He reached over and grabbed the glass of water. His grip was so loose that he nearly let the glass between his palm slip and plummet down to the carpet under him. He struggled to take a sip out of the glass, but managed to take a few gulps before finally setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

He was ready to get out of bed and explain himself, even though he barely had the energy to do so. But, that wasn't a good enough excuse for barging into somebody's home like that. He attempted to sit up and drag his legs over to the side.

"Rest," said a familiar voice at the corner of the room. "You need rest." It was the father that had so kindly tended to his wound.

The boy, weak and out of energy, couldn't compete against that kind of offer. He collapsed back onto the bed and remained on his back, feeling the warmth of the covers and the firmness of the mattress. Without a moment to spare, he drifted off to sleep while thinking of ways to explain such a situation.

A knock was heard at the bedroom door.

"Dad?" whispered Sokka, creaking the door open. Attempting not to disturb the boy's rest, Hakoda got up and exited the room, taking Sokka with him. They stood right outside the bedroom door.

"What is it, son?" asked the father.

Sokka thought twice about what he was about to say, and tried to make it sound as unselfish as he could.

"Are you sure this is safe?" asked the son. "To take in a boy like this?"

His father understood. "It's okay, Sokka," said Hakoda. "He is safe with us. And you are safe with me. This is merely an aide to another."

"But we don't know anything about this boy," said Sokka. "We don't even know his name." The urgency in his voice could be well-sensed, and a slight presence of anger was available. Although this could turn out to be a heated argument, Hakoda was a peacemaker.

The father politely nodded. "When he is awake, he will tell us. Do not worry, son. He's in good hands." He smiled, to which Sokka frowned. Hakoda peaked back into the room to make sure the boys was asleep. After a quick confirmation, he returned to the conversation. "I doubt that anyone knows of his presence."

Sokka cut the conversation short and calmly returned to his bedroom across the hallway, but inside he was storming. True, the appearance of this boy seems subtle, but they should take no risk. Ozai is a raccoon scurrying through the garbage. He'll find and kill the boy, eventually. However, this boy may not be a stray. The possibility is highly unlikely, but it is still possible. What really questioned the boy's motives were the fading tatoos that appeared around his body. What were they for and what kind of lunatic would take the time to draw over them like that?

The son entered his room and clumsily plopped himself down into his desk. He dug his eyes into his forehead. _What is this world coming to?_ he thought to himself. Hakoda, in the opposite room, studied the boy resting on the bed. He had no suspicions of any kind. But that was what bothered Sokka.

* * *

Daylight seeped through the blinds on the windows, landing on the bed of where the boy slept, thus creating patterns of black and white on his skin. Without any irritation to the eyes this time, his eyes opened slowly and a yawn escaped from mouth, to which he quickly expelled. The boy blinked once or twice to regain conciousness, forcing himself not to fall back to sleep. He stayed awake this time and noticed a change in the room.

It was daytime.

Hakoda opened the blinds and let the violent daylight attack the boy's eyes, making him flinch and shutter. He squinted and looked towards the father, who was straightening the room out. A sense of peace quickly arose when the boy looked over to the nightstand and saw that the glass of water had been refilled. This was the perfect time to introduce himself. He propped himself up against the wall behind him.

"You've been asleep for quite a while," the father announced, dusting off the blinds. "It is midday." The dust that lifted itself away from the windows quickly retreated to the carpeted floor. Before Hakoda could exit the room, the boy finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," said the boy. The father turned away from the door and looked towards him.

"There is nothing you should apologize for," replied Hakoda.

"No," disagreed the boy. "I shouldn't have barged into somebody's home like that."

The father smiled. "But it was a good thing that you did. Your flesh wound would have been worser than it already is."

The boy sighed. He looked down on his arms. The arrows were faint, but were still there. He looked back up at the father. "I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" asked Hakoda, raising an eyebrow.

"That you're not safe as long as I'm here," admitted the boy. At that point, it was confirmed that the child was definitely a stray.

The father flattened his lips. "That isn't my concern now."

"But it will be," the boy guessed it, "Right?"

Hakoda chuckled and sniffed his nose, getting rid of the allergic reaction he always gets when he dusts.

"I'm afraid we haven't introduced ourselves," said the father. "My name is Hakoda."

"My name is Aang," replied the boy.

Suddenly, someone opened the bedroom door as the room filled with the scent of warm soup. Aang, the boy, gazed at a person he didn't recognize. And then that was when it hit him. Right there, standing at the treshold of the hallway, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life, holding a tray of soup. His ash-colored eyes could not rip away the glance of the girl, whose face looked so delicate. Her dark blue eyes entranced Aang, almost making him gasp. Their eyes didn't meet yet, but they were about to. Jaw down, mouth open, Aang shook his head and reluctantly ripped away the glance as the girl sat down the tray of soup onto the nightstand, sounding a big clank.

Hakoda, who stood at the corner, soon realised that the bathroom was left untended to.

"I'll be right back," said the father. Hakoda left the bedroom.

"Hello," said the girl in an upbeat manner. "I'll be back with a stand and a spoon." She exited the room, leaving Aang completely bedazzled.

After all of what Aang had been through, this was probably the brightest moment of his life. A girl, older than him, but still so enchanting, walks into the bedroom with a tray of soup. It was almost like a dream come true. Something about the appearance of this girl really touched Aang's heart, making her attractive enough to fall in love with. But, this was far from love.

The girl rushed in with a spoon in one hand and a stand in the other. She set the spoon on the tray and leaned over Aang to adjust the stand, giving him an angle of beauty that he had been dying to see. What was really appealing was her hair; two encircling loops dangled down and looped up, only to be tied to the end of a hair bun. A necklace hanged down from her neck, revealing an insignia imprinted on the necklace.

After the stand adjustments, the girl set the bowl of soup down on the stand and handed Aang the spoon. Enchanted by the beaming looks of the girl, he hesitated once or twice before finally accepting the spoon.

"Uh, thank you," said Aang, sounding a little tone-deaf.

"Oh, no problem," replied the girl. As she was heading towards the door and leaving the poor boy thinking of what to say before she exits, the girl immediately turned around. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot to introduce myself. My name's Katara."

"I'm Aang," he replied, trying very hard to sound as warmhearted as the girl.

"Aang." Katara confirmed. The sound of her saying the name almost made Aang smile. "If you need anything, just holler my name."

Katara finally exited, leaving the boy in dismay. _Say something next time,_ he thought. Katara was completely unaware of Aang's awareness of her. She merely thought that she was helping a sweet little kid, and aiding her father to take care of him. The boy looked down at his soup. It was broth. He stirred the soup with a spoon. Seeing the girl was enough of a treat for him, but not enough of a treat for his stomach. He ate his soup silently, cooling each spoonful of hot broth before finally sending it down his throat.

* * *

In the living room, Sokka silently sat on the couch while he channel surfed on the TV set. Katara walked in the kitchen, setting Aang's bowl of soup in the sink and rinsing it.

"Dad went off to work," announced Sokka.

"Okay." After tidying up the kitchen, Katara proceeded back through the hallway towards her room, turning at various corridors before finally arriving at her room. Suddenly, she noticed that the door of the bathroom was closed. The light seaped out from the bottom. Katara entered Aang's bedroom and found that he was out of bed. Out of complete curiousity, the girl attempted to listen in on what Aang was exactly doing in the bathroom.

She heard sink water running. Occasionally, splashes could be heard. Satisfied with her observation, Katara proceeded back to her room and into her studies. It was Saturday, a blissful day for relaxation and merriment, but at this household, it was oddly quiet. Between Sokka watching television, Katara studying, and Aang washing up, there was nothing, really.

Aang exited the bathroom, feeling his upper ribs and torso, flattening out the loose ends of the bandage. He looked down the hallway towards Katara's room. The door was half open and audio could be heard coming out of her stereo. He took two steps towards that direction and quickly stopped. Invading someone's privacy wasn't a very healthy thing to do. He remained in that spot for quite a while, standing there, facing towards her room.

"Is there something you need?" said the girl behind him, nearly making Aang jump. He turned around, finding Katara standing there with her head buried into a book. Apparently, she wasn't where Aang thought she was.

"No," he answered, still a little startled.

Katara bypassed the boy, still looking down at the print on the book while proceeding towards her room. Aang escaped the dark corridors of the hallways and proceeded towards the living room, where sunlight lit up the darkest place of all. When he stepped in, he wasn't expecting anyone to be sitting there, watching television.

Sokka immediately looked up, at first startled, but then concerned.

"Sorry," flatlined Aang. "I didn't know-"

"No, it's all right," responded the son. He got up, walked around the couch, and proceeded towards the kitchen for a glass of water. "Do you want anything to drink?"

The boy shook his head. "I'm Aang."

"Sokka." He quickly took a sip of water and proceeded back to the living room, not really caring of the little drops of water he left behind. "You can sit down if you'd like."

Aang walked towards a single chair; the same chair that he remembered slouching on last night. He took a seat, slow enough to reduce the pain of bending his hip. It was a strange encounter, but at least things weren't as tense as he would've imagined it to be. The boy thought of the things Sokka said to his father, Hakoda, last night. It sounded like he was unwelcomed, but by the looks of it, it didn't seem much of a problem if he was a stray child.

As any kid would watch during this time of day, the news tended to stop its gloomy death hour to side track towards storied in science and entertainment, which were the two subjects that really mattered most to people at a time like this. It's a scary world that won't cope with a government that goes so far to protect the world, but at the same time, also destroy it. Sokka did his best to attempt to like the goverment, just like any other teenaged boy would. Dictatorship was the only way that this world could open their ears and listen. Crossing the line and being okay with it is very selfish, and Sokka saw himself that way. He felt sickened and in grief for every third-born that was still roaming the earth.

A lot of people prayed for these kids, including Sokka and Katara. The government did nothing to warm the hearts of their citizens and the citizens also did nothing in return; well, paying their taxes didn't count as much. Taxes have doubled to support the funds of the government, and each day Sokka convinced himself that his own father didn't give money to those who killed children. Whether or not that was true, the daughter and son stood by their father, equal, in unity, and they knew that whatever their father does was for them and their safety.

"What's on?" asked Aang, trying to break the silence.

"Nothing," replied Sokka, yawning.

And true, these two lines of dialogue weren't enough to break the silence, since the silence was about to be broken even further.


	3. The Hands of Divinity

_(Wouldn't it be awesome if I did own Avatar? Too bad I DON'T...)_

**III  
The Hands of Divinity**

A knock was at the front door.

The knock, so strong and unhesitative, so alive, shook the rafters of the ceiling and the boards of the floor. The knock caught Sokka completely off-guard, making him spill his glass of water all over the floor.

"Dammit!"

He got up and harshly contemplated the wet spot made on the carpet. He picked up the glass and set it on the table. Again, a knock was heard at the front door, sounding more urgent and more gruesome. It was then when Aang jumped off his seat and backed away from the door. Sokka rushed towards it and unlocked the hinges before finally spotting a tax collector on the doorsteps, arms folded across his chest.

"About time, little guy," boasted the tax collector. Sokka, without questioning the man's motives, hurried towards the kitchen to get the "ENCLOSED" envelope, then rushed back to the man and handed him what he wanted. Without saying anything else, he left the steps and jotted down the sidewalk, barely dodging a toddler tricycling his way down the street. He grimaced in an awkward fashion. Sokka stood there a while longer, seeing what other tricks this tax collector has up his sleeve. Instead, he pushed his thoughts away and shut the front door, returning to attend to the wet carpet.

"Who was that?" questioned Aang, almost whispering.

"Tax collector," responded Sokka, raising an eyebrow. "Why so curious?"

The boy flattened his lips and shook his head. "No reason."

The son's mouth slightly opened. He turned away to hide his expression, concerning Aang. Instead of proceeding towards the kitchen to get paper towels, he turned to the hallway that connected several bedrooms, including his sister's, in such a casual fashion that it disconcerned the boy, making him sit back down on the chair. Sokka turned at the many corridors that led to her sister's room before finally arriving at his destination.

He knocked on the door. The knob twisted and the door swung open, revealing Katara. She opened the door just to the point to where only her face was revealed. Discovering that the intruder was Sokka, she opened the door to a much opened point.

"What?" she asked.

"That kid!" whispered Sokka. "He's hiding something! I know it!"

Katara sighed, rolled her eyes, and attempting to shut the door while saying, "You're overreacting," but was stopped by her brother.

"I'm serious! He nearly freaked out when someone was at the front door!"

"Wait," said her sister, "Who was at the front door?"

"Tax collector."

Acknowledging her brother's theory, she finally gave in, scoffing. "Alright, alright, calm down... Then why don't you ask him where he came from?"

"You ask him!"

She widened her face and backed away from her brother. "Me? Why?"

He chuckled, "Are you serious? Can't you tell that he's totally smitten with you?"

She looked completely bewildered, sounding completely exhausted towards her brother's theories. "What are you talking about?"

Sokka placed both his hands on Katara's shoulders and shook her violently, "Open your eyes, sister!"

* * *

The common sense that Sokka threw at her sister wasn't really clear to understand. Aang did such a good job hiding his attraction towards Katara, but through any guy's eyes, you can see every thought, expression, and look that another boy hides from a girl. The point being, Aang was hiding something. The incompetent way that the boy has been acting towards Sokka has questioned his motives, and that was the last thing that Aang wanted; or was it?

"Aang," said Katara, sitting him down on the couch while taking a seat next to him herself, "We need to talk to you."

"About what?" Aang urgently asked, widening his eyes.

"See?" whispered the brother, harshly.

Katara scowled towards Sokka and resumed her questionnaire with Aang. "Um, we've been wanting to ask you..."

"Yeah?"

Her brother impatiently cut off Katara's dialogue, "Aang, where did you come from?"

And he frowned, looking down at the sister's hands, that were placed sympathetically on his own. "I was afraid you were going to ask that." Aang rose to his feet and walked towards the opposite end of the living room, looking like he was anticipating an explosion to erupt. "It's a little hard for me to explain."

"That's okay," comforted the sister. "Just say what you can say."

Aang licked his lips and blinked very slowly, trying to piece up his history. "Six months ago, I lived at a small fall-out orphanage called the Backyard at the outskirts of town. It was practically a shelter for all strays, orphans, and third-born children; it was also the only shelter that the government didn't get a hold of." He took a pause to reassess himself. "I stayed there for quite a while, until, of course, it was discovered. They came and grabbed the children, dealing with the reluctant leaders. I was one of the few that escaped their grasp and I've been on the run since-"

Another knock at the door interrupted the scenario. The knock, this time very calm and patient, only lasted for a short matter of time, but somehow easily caught everyone's attention. An exasperated Sokka walked to the front door, almost certain that it was nothing important. He even stopped to tighten a lose tie on his shoes. Then, very casually, he proceeded towards the door and opened it, revealing a man...

It was them.

Three men in black suits, helmeted heads, and armored limbs stood in front of Sokka in a defensive position, gesturing a violent stance. Various weapons and objects were twisted around their belts, indicating that they were probably expecting a fight. But, their posture was focused in such a way that it almost seemed like they were attending a formal dinner party.

"We are the Hands of Divinity," boomed the voices, in unison. "We wish to come inside." Their voices, so strong and so precise, made Aang, who remained within the house, collapse. He knelt down and touched the floor in a fearing manner. Katara stared at Aang.

"Who are you guys?" asked Sokka, more casual than ever. Even he did not know who these men were. With all of the things that he was focused on in a world like this, it was pretty rare to see someone not know the group of men in front of the son.

"We are the Hands of Divinity," responded the three men, "We wish to come inside."

Suddenly, numerous bystanders, cars, trucks, and even kids on tricycles rolling down the sidewalk stopped to gaze at Sokka and the three men. It seemed as if the entire world stopped to take a few pictures of what was happening on Sokka's doorstep.

Inside, Aang quickly took action. He stayed low and shimmied towards the hallway corridor, carefully watching the front door as the silhouetted Sokka tried to reassess the situation. But, potential terror soon took its course. The so-called "Hands", being very skilled at spotting their prey, peeked inside, spotting Aang in a very compromising position. The lights on their helmets started to blink and the three men ejected a baton into their hands and pointed it towards Sokka. Panicking, he dove out of the way, forcing the Hands to fire their batons at him, creating armor-piercing holes through the door while simultaneously turning the whole scene into a heated escape act.

The door blew off its hinges as one of the three men shot its baton at it. Katara watched a trio of heavily-armed men flood the house, forcing her to run towards Aang, who was already making a run towards Katara's room. The three men chased Katara around the living room, tripping over tables and tackling couches in the claustrophobic space. She finally entered the hallway corridors and ran down the threshold before finally reaching her room, which was already occupied by the boy. She turned around, slammed the door, and locked it. Without further time to waste, the daughter pushed her dresser in front of the door, using all of her strength to get it in front of the door before the three men could get it open.

Katara spotted Aang huddled up in the corner of the room next to the foot of the bed. He looked up at her, looking as defenseless as he could ever be. She then glanced up at the window.

"Follow my lead," commanded Katara. Suddenly, a loud stun busted the door against the dresser so hard, so violently, that shrapnel expelled off of the sides of the dresser; one of the pieces of shrapnel got lodged into Aang's leg. He collapsed to the floor, but quickly sprung himself up.

The adrenaline of the moment led Katara to be the leader as she opened the window and grabbed Aang's arm, showing him the way. The boy literally dumped himself out of the window as he roughly fell down to the tough ground beneath him. Katara quickly followed him. She landed right on top of Aang, giving her some cushion, but for him, some bruises. As she heard the dresser collapse from inside of the house, Katara rose to her feet and brought Aang to his as they made their way towards the alley.

As they reached the fence, a familiar hand extended out to catch Katara's shoulder. She turned around to find a hurt Sokka. The side of his head had a cut on it, presumably from the dive he took to get out of the line of fire.

"This way!" yelled Sokka, without struggle. Aang and Katara followed him as they ran down the alley, each of them begging for breath. They finally stopped at the final driveway of the alley, leaning against a fence lining while gasping for breath.

"What the hell was that?" asked Sokka, between breaths of air. "Hands of Divinity? Aang, do you know anything about this?"

The boy stood up, straightening his back and facing towards the next street. "Those were the same guys that raided the orphanage."

Sokka shook his head. "We gotta keep moving."

"Where are we supposed to go?" asked Katara.

"I don't know!" he snapped. "But we have to keep moving!" He backed up into the next street and stepped foot on the road so quickly that it caught a bicycle rider by suprise. The rider skid his back tire to stop fast, but bumped Sokka on his rear end, forcing him to fall on the road.

"Goodness!" said the female rider. "Are you okay?"

He slowly rose to his feet and stood up once more. "Shit!" He turned around and discovered that the rider was a friend.

"Sokka?" said the female rider.

"Suki?" he replied.

The rider, Suki, got off of her bicycle and hugged Sokka. "I saw one of those armored vehicles enter this neighborhood. I just wanted to see if they were coming for you."

"Yeah," he automatically replied. "We need to get out of this neighborhood now. They're still looking for us."

"Us?"

"Yeah," he said once more. He then pointed to the alley entrance, where two figures stood. "That's my sister, Katara. And that's... Aang."

"Hi," said Suki.

"No time for introductions," informed Katara. "We need to get out of here, now."

The rider nodded. "Follow me. I know a safe hiding place."

Without hesitation, they followed Suki street to street, passing through many yards and hopping countless fences.

* * *

Over the course of the past few years, the government has killed almost one million children, including all strays and third-borns. The unborns didn't count as "children"; if they were included in the death count, then the statistics would be flying. All Aang knew, and was sure of, was that they came for him. He was a stray: no parents, no siblings, no aunts or uncles, no cousins; no family. He didn't know how it felt like to have a family, which was why he didn't really care.

The four of them hid in a small cavern that sat under a boulder. They remained sitting in an awkward position, catching their breath and recapping what they just experienced. Katara walked over to Aang, who sat alone in the corner. She knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy turned around.

"I'm sorry that I brought this to you," he said.

"It's not your fault," she replied. "You didn't know."

Sokka finally stood up and stretched out his limbs.

"Hey, we need to get to Dad," he said. "If he gets home, they might get him. We need to tell what happened."

"They aren't staying at your house, Sokka," said Suki, who knew more about the Hands of Divinity than him. "They are out looking for us."

"Not you," replied Sokka, dejected. Suddenly, he lit up like a firework, a smile broke out on his face. "Wait a second... they aren't looking for you!"

"So?" questioned Suki.

"You can go to the construction site downtown," he explained, "And tell my dad what happened."

Katara left Aang and walked towards Sokka. "And what exactly can he do about it?"

Sokka turned towards the boy at the far corner, who stared back towards him.

"He can get us out of this town," concluded Sokka. "Maybe even out of Earth Kingdom."

Katara shook her head, "Fine, Suki can go tell Dad what's the situation, but not so he can take us on the run."

"Fine." Sokka turned towards Suki.

"I know where the construction site is," she said. Sokka hugged her once more.

"Just be careful," he said.

Suki crawled out of the cavern and could be heard bolting towards downtown, leaving the three alone.

"What should we do now?" asked Katara.

Sokka took a minute to think, "We should head towards the next neighborhood, but let's stay here for a couple of more hours until twilight. Until then, let's get some rest. I'm exhausted."

Katara nodded. She looked towards Aang, who had his eyes buried into his hands.

A couple of hours here in this cavern is okay with her.


	4. Three Evils Embodied in Love and Shadow

_(What is Avatar? Something that I do not own, that's for sure...)_

**IV  
Three Evils (Embodied in Love and Shadow)**

Family meant a lot to Katara. She didn't like talking to others about her family, though. But, under these circumstances, it seemed necessary for her to talk to Aang about this subject. She couldn't imagine how it felt to have no family, no history. Sokka, who was outside reconnoitering, was probably the best thing to have in this scenario.

Katara walked over to Aang, who remained in the corner, staring at the wall with a blank expression, obviously thinking of something. But what?

"Hey," she said, kneeling down beside him. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," answered the boy. Katara then discovered that the boy's leg was bleeding. She hissed and tore a piece of cloth from her jacket.

"Let me see that," she said. Aang showed her the wound as Katara spotted the piece of wood that was lodged into his leg. Without a moment to spare, she pulled it out, making Aang yelp. Then she finally tied the cloth around his leg.

"It must be hard," she said, "Having no family." She touched the necklace that hanged loosely around her neck. "My mother passed away when I was really young... what's weird is that I can't even picture her face." She forced a chuckle. "I have nothing to remember her by besides this necklace." She played with the small metal insignia. "I wish I had a little more to see."

"It doesn't mean anything to me," he responded, his voice crackling and his spirit low. "I don't know how it feels to have a family... but, that's not necessarily a bad thing, right?" He turned around and faced Katara, who was no further than an inch away from him.

"I guess not," responded Katara. Aang was begging for the space between them to be stolen. He knew it wasn't the best move, but he wanted it. Katara wasn't entirely sure if what Sokka said to her was true, but here they were. Alone.

"Katara," said Aang in a pure voice. "What am I supposed to do?"

And that was when Aang really wanted the space between them to be stolen. Katara struck his heart with so much precise force that he really could feel some physical chest pain. Without hesitation, Katara held Aang's hands in an attempt to comfor him. Aang took the time to take a firmer grasp on her hands, feeling the incredible softness of her skin, creating the moment a little more physical.

"Aang," said Katara, "You're with me and my brother. You're completely safe." She smiled then sank in and hugged him, feeling his warmth as he felt hers.

A whisper penetrated the caverns, echoing towards the two. It was Sokka. Katara jolted up and walked towards the small opening, where he whispered through.

"Hey!" whispered Sokka, "We should get a move on it! The sun is about to set!"

"Alright," responded Katara. She then turned towards Aang. "Let's go!" Aang finally rose to his feet and was the first one to crawl through the small opening, immediately followed by Katara.

"Follow me," said Sokka. "We can't waste a minute."

Suddenly, a beam of light struck the three, revealing them to the same three men; the Hands of Divinity.

"Let's go!" They ran for their lives down the street, closely followed by the three men. Katara and Aang barely kept up with Sokka as he turned at numerous intersections and back alleys. The batons that shot out projectiles earlier were at it again; numerous bursts of violent light fell around them, launching up large chunks of dirt that hovered between their legs.

Unfortunately, these men were very good. A large chunk of dirt tripped Katara, making her fall down on the rough gravel road. Aang stopped to turn around, but was quickly tackled by one of the three armored men.

Aang's yelled in excruciating pain. His vision became hazy in the dark. Warm blood dripped down his forehead and the sides of his arm from the impact of the tackle. He tried to resist, but was overwhelmed by the armored man, who pinned him down and tried to knock the boy out with his baton. Sokka, who was fast enough to escape the armored man's attacks, pushed him off of Aang and gave the boy a chance to get up on his feet.

"Katara!" yelled Sokka. Two of the men grabbed him by his arms and held him down to the gravel, but Aang was free from their grasp. They wouldn't stop resisting. He finally got to Katara and helped her up, both of them quick at going back to Sokka for assistance. The armored men finally got a hold of the three kids, bringing them down on their stomachs and their faces dug into the dirt of the road.

A bright light beamed into the eyes of the armored men. They looked up, spotting nothing but the white light. Suddenly, three gunshots were set off; shots that were strong enough to knock the men down and paralyze them for a few seconds. Even though they were in pain and were out of stamina, the three kids got up and looked towards the source of the light.

"Over here!" said the male source. They ran towards the source as he guided them to safety.

* * *

They entered the houshold of their lifesaver, a home that looked cozy and warm enough for an entire family. The man led the kids into the living room where he motioned to them to take a seat. They dumped themselves onto a couch. The man was quick at handing them each a bag of ice in which they applied to their wounds and bruises.

The man held out a canteen for Sokka, which was filled with water. He looked up and willingly accepted.

"Thanks," he said, taking a drink and passing the canteen on to Aang. The rifle in the man's hand looked lethal and homemade. He took a seat on a chair that was directly in front of the couch, setting his rifle beside him.

"Man," he said. He shook his head, while chuckling, "You guys looked like you were in some pretty deep shit back there." He looked at the kid's faces. "My name's Yoshi. I got a place for you here. If you wanna stay..." His voice trailed off. He unclogged his nose, sniffing the moist air. He then spotted Aang's head wound. "Whoa, that looks bad."

Yoshi went into the kitchen to retrieve a white cloth, returning to the living room and tossing the cloth to Aang. He caught it and wiped the nearly-dried blood off his head.

"Hey," said Yoshi, breaking the silence. "You guys okay?" They nodded weakly. "I got about two empty bedrooms for you guys. I recommend you stay for the night. Those handycops are really stubborn." He observed the kids' expressions, then shrugged slightly. "I'll show you to your rooms."

* * *

Aang entered his dark room, which was weakly lit up by a single lamp that sat on a nightstand. He took a seat on his bed, reflecting off of his wounds. He gazed at his arm, which was a bluish red. His forehead ached and his leg was overpowered by his new hurt. A knock at the door interrupted his macabre trance.

"Come in," said the boy. It was the man that assisted them, Yoshi.

"Hey," he said. He stood at the threshold of the entrance while Aang got up and walked around the room, letting the man know that he can enter. Yoshi took a seat on a chair near the corner desk. "So, I'm guessing that those armored cops came for you."

Aang turned around. "How'd you know?"

"Well, the fading tattoos on your arms and head seem to give you away." Yoshi didn't really understand the meaning of the blue arrows that ran across the boy's limbs, but that was what singled him out. "Anyway, just make sure you and your friends don't make too much noise. And the windows must be shut at all times. The last thing I want is an encounter with those armored sons of bitches."

"What are they really called?" asked Aang.

"They call themselves the Hands of Divinity," answered Yoshi, shaking his head. "How cocky can they get? Basically, they're the puppets of the government. More specifically, puppets of money. Do you know how much these guys get paid to do their job? Thousands." A presence of sadness was distinguished by the boy. Yoshi quickly realized what he had said, and took action. "Well, I'll see you in the morning."

As soon as Yoshi left, Katara entered the room. Aang quickly shifted his attention to her. The girl's hair was moist and her clothes were clean of dirt and gravel. He rushed towards her and grasped her.

"What a night," was all the girl could say, "I thought we were goners."

"We're still here," said Aang, letting go. He gazed at her face, and looked down towards the floor. "What's the plan?"

"Get out of this neighborhood," she responded. "Pretty soon, a million of those armored men will be running through the streets."

Yoshi entered the room once more. "Lights out!" he whispered. He quickly exited. Katara left the room, leaving Aang exhausted and ready for some sleep. He lifted the covers and put himself under them, turning off the lamp.

Katara returned to her room, which she shared with Sokka. She slept on the twin bed opposite of her brother. In between the two beds, a single nightstand stood there. Sokka was already beginning to doze off.

"It just doesn't make any sense," he yawned, "Why would they put so much effort into finding this kid?"

"I don't know," answered Katara. She got into her nook and turned off the lamp.

* * *

A violent knock bursted through the rooms of the house, awakening Aang. He rose up, his heart beating fast and his heading racing with thoughts. He could hear the sound of footsteps rushing towards the door. The soles of the shoes slammed against the floorboards as Yoshi opened the door and saw four shadowy figures raid his home. Four padded arms took Yoshi and tackled him against the wall, holding him down. Another set of arms tied him around a chair with a rope, tightening it with great force.

Finally, a different man, a whole new entity from the other three armored men, entered the living room where Yoshi was tied up. He had a roll of bread in one hand and a glass of water in the other, enjoying his snack he recieved from the kitchen. The entity then set his snack down on the counter and proceeded towards Yoshi and the three men that contained him. The entity finally revealed himself dressed in a trench coat and top hat, looking like a modern detective.

"Mister..." he took out a piece of paper from his pocket and read the words written on it, "Yoshi, is it?" He folded the paper and put it back into his pocket. "Yes, Mister Yoshi... we seem to have a situation." The detective began to slowly pace back and forth, creating a fashionable walk. "It seems that we have a criminal running loose around this particular neighborhood." He swayed his words casually.

Aang slowly crept out of his room and made his way down the hallway, carefully listening to the intruder and his minions.

"Mister Yoshi," continued the Detective, "This criminal is a major threat to our country. We need your cooperation in order for us to protect you and everyone else from this... maniac." He stopped pacing. "So, you wouldn't happen to know any info that you want to give us, would you?"

Yoshi licked his lips and slightly chuckled. "It looks like you don't need any info. So... you kill kids, right? How much do they pay you?"

The Detective smiled. He pulled up a chair right in front of Yoshi and sat down, facing towards him. He cleared his throat, "You see, Mister Yoshi, the world we live in right now can easily fall apart. Before our work, a baby was born every few seconds. A death occurred every few minutes. That imbalanced rate continued on for about twenty years and Earth Kingdom became overpopulated. The streets were full. The air was full of smog. And life, as we knew it, nearly came to an end. Supplies were almost completely depleted off the face of the Earth."

Aang heard this speech many times.

"Hence," continued the Detective, "The Hands of Divinity were born. We were the only backbone that this world had in balancing out the human race and to prevent overpopulation." The detective rose to his feet and walked back a few steps. "However, we have also discovered something during the process."

"What?" asked Yoshi.

The Detective laughed, "This job is just too damn fun." He turned around, holding a pistol in his hand. He quickly unloaded two bullets into Yoshi's chest.

The loud noise of the gunshots racketed through the house, making Aang violently scurry. The Detective turned towards the hallway, catching the scurry. Aang didn't hesitate to scoot back into the shadows.

"What shall we do with him?" asked the robot-like armored men.

The Detective carefully observed the facades of the hallway. "Untie him and dispose him." Aang crawled through the back hallway, making his way towards the kitchen. The Detective entered the maze of hallways, following his instincts as they led him towards the boy. Suddenly, another three gunshots erupted from the living room.

But it wasn't the Detective shooting.

He quickly hurried back to the living room. His jaw dropped to the floor. There, in the center of the living room, a single rope sat on the chair of Yoshi. Three armored men were on the floor, lying on their own pool of blood.

A rifle cocked at the far end of the living room. The Detective took evasive action as Yoshi, incredibly alive, unloaded numerous bullets towards his direction. The Detective dove for cover, landing behind the kitchen counter. Aang remained in the hallway that opened up into the kitchen, remaining hidden. He then spotted Katara and Sokka further down the hallway, nodding that he is okay.

Yoshi reloaded his rifle, replacing the empty clip in the gun slot with a new one. Hearing the gun reload, the Detective reached over the counter and fire six more shots into the living room, only leaving Yoshi to find safe cover behind a large couch. It was now the Detective's turn to reload and Yoshi's turn to fire. Large chunks of debris landed on the Detective and ripped fabric made the rifleman sneeze. Both contenders remained still, sitting behind their cover and not firing a single shot.

"Damn, I thought you were dead," yelled out the Detective.

"It's hard to die when you're wearing a bulletproof vest," yelled back Yoshi.

The Detective, outraged, unloaded his entire clip into the living room, hitting nothing but air and ground.

"Missed me!" intimidated Yoshi.

Katara and Sokka felt like they had to do something. Sokka, knowing that this skilled rifleman couldn't only have one gun, went into the man's bedroom and scuffled around in the closet, looking for some sort of weapon. He finally found what he had been looking for inside a shoebox.

"It's hard to kill with a gun in your hand," said the Detective. "If you want to pick a real fight, come in here and do it."

"You're pathetic!" shouted Yoshi. He fired more shots into the kitchen to startle his enemy.

But something strange happened. Everything was silent in the kitchen.

"Hey asshole!" yelled Yoshi. There was no answer. He slowly walked towards the kitchen entrance, keeping up his rifle. He wove himself through the large chunks of the wall and debris. "Hey!"

Suddenly, a sharp kick into Yoshi's abdomen sent him spiraling down to the floor and dropping his weapon. The rifleman quickly kicked the gun out of the Detective's hands. The Detective dropped down towards Yoshi and attempted to strangle him.

"Freeze!" yelled a shadowy figure standing in the hallway threshold. The Detective and Yoshi stopped their fighting and looked towards the hallway.

It was Sokka, standing there with a pistol held in his hand amateurishly. "Get off of him!"

The Detective slowly rose to his feet, raising his hands towards the ceiling. "Take it easy, kid," he pleaded.

"Go to that corner!" commanded the boy. Unwittingly, police sirens started to rise in the distance. The Detective slyly smiled. "Go!" yelled Sokka once more.

"Are you really gonna shoot me?"

"Shut up!"

"I got backup coming," said the Detective. "In great numbers, too."

Sokka walked towards the detective and ripped off the badge that proudly hung from the man's neck. "Let's go," he said. Yoshi took his rifle and rose to his feet, rushing towards the Detective. He took the cuffs from the entity's pocket and slapped them around his wrists. Katara and Aang arrived at the scene, only to be dragged away once more.

"Follow me," said Yoshi. Holding his rifle tight, he grabbed his wallet and led the three kids out of the house and away from the sirens.


End file.
